


A Perfect Dream of Life

by sleeperservice



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Bittersweet, Breeding, Gen, Mpreg, Post Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeperservice/pseuds/sleeperservice
Summary: Mikko Koivu, forced into a new stage of life, does not expect to take so well to parenthood or retirement; but he does.





	A Perfect Dream of Life

It would be a few weeks before Mikko would definitely find out if the insemination would take, but he had a feeling it already had. He just felt different in a surprisingly good way. The whole process leading up to this hadn't been any fun at all; it had made him feel nervous all the time, even worse than his normal state of being nervous about being potentially pregnant was doing. He had put this off for so long and put off thinking about it for so long that it had ceased being real to him. Looking at the proposed offers as a 35+ player for the 2018-19 season and seeing the constant blather in the North American press that he was over the hill and should finally get around to fulfilling his contractual breeding obligation and in the Finnish press about fulfilling his national breeding obligation brought it home that he really, truly, had put it off for too long.

He had enough money saved up that he could spend a few years devoting himself to his child. _His child_. What a concept. A horrifying concept. His career was over and he would be raising up this child, if male, to be a professional hockey player. What if the kid wasn't any good at it? It wasn't likely, considering the Koivu bloodline, not to mention the background and potential of whoever the father was, but it could still happen.

Mikko had been reading quite a bit about pregnancy. The phenomenon of childbearing men was very recent in human history, but he and other men like him had a good idea of what to expect. With a few differences relating to birth—most men could not give birth vaginally—the experience was identical to that of women. The book he had just finished had helpfully pointed out that "some of these changes in your body could be disturbing and affect your self-image." Between that and everything else that these books were telling him could go wrong, his anxiety levels about it were through the roof.

This was worse than anything he had felt playing hockey, at any point. It was even worse because he was going through this alone. He assumed the fertility clinic nurse thought she was being helpful when she asked about his partner being absent. "Most of you players have partners or at least have the other father in the arrangement present for these," she told him.

The clinic dealt with all the Minnesota-based NHL breeding contracts, so Mikko assumed she had seen a lot of men in his position come through. In the position of having a contract, yes; in his unique situation, partnerless and without a specified donor or set of potential donors in the contract, no. His parents, in conjunction with his agent, had been very adamant on setting up his contract differently from the ones that they had heard about at the time. Unlike those other contracts, the team would not have complete control over his reproduction. He would raise the child himself and not give it up to the league or team; the child would go into the draft and not be earmarked for any team; the child would be conceived artificially and not via any other method without his express approval. He had chosen, himself, not to know who the sperm donor for this pregnancy would be. He supposed it would be revealed at the draft as the contract specified, but that was at least eighteen years in the future. No other player would have any personal influence on the raising of this child without his say.

Well, that was a lie; two other retired hockey players would be having an influence on raising the child. In some ways, it helped having a father and brother who had at least gone through the whole pro hockey experience. Neither of them were able to bear children, though, so all the well-meaning advice had been coming from Mikko's mother and sister-in-law. There had been a lot of well-meaning advice already. There would be far more coming once he found out if he was actually pregnant.

* * *

Mikko's first trimester had passed without incident, if "incident" meant "all those horrors mentioned in the pregnancy books." What he had going on was just the minor annoyances of all pregnancies, like backaches and mood swings and having to pee about a thousand times an hour, not the full-on terror and doom. His mother had sent him a few boxes of maternity clothes already. Since he would remain in Minnesota for the duration because the contract specified that he be treated by team-designated doctors and be under their supervision, he obviously would not be able to return to Finland and shop for proper clothing, not the monstrosities perpetrated by American purveyors of clothing for bearing men. He hadn't at first seen the need to start wearing them as he thought he'd be barely showing in the first few months, so there was no reason he wouldn't be able to continue wearing his normal clothing.

Mikko had been right on one point. He was barely showing by the end of the trimester, enough that a random fan on the street would just think he had just started to let himself go a little bit right after retirement.

Unfortunately, he had been hit by the disturbing, self-image-affecting changes in his body. In specific, he had developed breasts. This wasn't a thing that was wrong; it was a completely natural part of the whole process. But it meant his old shirts were right out because they were far too tight to go over a chest that went from normal but slightly sore to not out of place on a swimsuit model in just three months. The clinic personnel had been far too encouraging about that too. "They're not done yet! You have six months to go!" So he took a closer look at what his mother had sent and understood why she had after putting one of the shirts on. It was loose in the chest area and had a close-fitting neck and the fabric was opaque enough that no troublesome "support garments" (the euphemism for men's maternity bras) would show through. He had tried wearing a compression shirt first but that wasn't doing enough. Wearing these would save him from buying normal shirts in bigger sizes that would just look sloppy and perhaps lead to more questions. He could go out in public in these, since only those who looked very closely would notice that anything unusual was going on with his body.

Even with those annoyances going on, Mikko felt great. He still had the impending doom tickling on the back of his brain—there was always the possibility of more things going wrong—but at that moment, he was feeling the best he had in years. The fatigue from the pregnancy wasn't that much different from the grind of a 82-game season. At least with this, there were no chances of some sort of on-ice injury happening. He was always going to miss playing, but he was anticipating his return to Finland and the start of his coaching career.

Good things were going to happen and they were going to happen soon, once he got the next six months over and done with.

* * *

Despite the number of retired NHL players in Minnesota, some of whom had to be pregnant at that moment, Mikko hadn't run into any of them until mid-January.  Then he met Matt Cullen in the waiting room of the obstetrics clinic. They had decided to retire at around the same time and it was no surprise to Mikko that Matt had wanted to start in on fulfilling his contract as soon as possible. He had no idea what the terms of Matt's contract were, however. That was one of the things guys really didn't want to discuss in locker rooms. Some were better off than others and talking about contracts was inviting in the specter of The End of the Career.

Matt didn't look good. He looked tired and unkempt. His clothes were about one step up from pajamas, unlike the rest of what the expectant parents in the room were wearing. Mikko sort of understood that; these clinic appointments were annoying and you had to take off your clothes anyway, so why not be comfortable? He had chosen his own outfit that day for those reasons, as well as being just the maternity version of the sort of thing he had previously worn in the winter. With the way he had started to show, the baggy cable-knit sweater obscured enough of his body that people just thought he was a fat guy.

His clothing wouldn't attract the belly-touchers that other men in his situation seemed to. A pregnant woman was rare these days and a man even more so. People wanted to see that it was real, he guessed. Mikko touched his own belly and smiled. The last time Mikko had been in the clinic was for the ultrasound appointment where he got to see his little fidgety baby for the first time. It felt like the boy had already decided that he wanted to skate.

Matt had frowned when he saw Mikko smile. Things perhaps were not going well for him.

"How are you doing? How's the family? Is everything alright?" Mikko was concerned. Matt's wife went everywhere with him, and she was nowhere to be seen.

"The family's good. My wife just doesn't want to come here with me anymore. She's depressed about this whole thing. I joke with her that now I know how she feels, but…."

Mikko sighed. So Matt had signed a very bad contract indeed over two decades ago. "I'm sorry. Very sorry. I didn't mean to open things that should be closed."

"Nah, man, it's just something I should have talked about with someone before it happened. Tried to get it re-written. I'm just thankful the Ducks let me go home and be with my family for the pregnancy. I was supposed to live in their breeding facility for the entire time, but something must have made them give up. It wasn't out of the goodness of their hearts. Maybe it's because I hadn't played there for years."

"So that explains why we hadn't bumped into each other here. You were out in California for the beginning of the process?" Mikko had a fair idea of what that process was, but he couldn't come right out and ask.

"Yeah. I know the Wild contracts are pretty enlightened and still are. You just have to live here and go to this particular clinic because it specializes in childbearing men. That's all."

"Not all. Some of the contracts give the playing rights to the child to the team. Mine doesn't. Neither does Granny's." Most of that was probably Mikko's contract setting precedence. The only thing he had heard the team insist on with others was having the direct rights to at least one of the offspring in the contract. Even that, and the rest, were negotiable. They were one of the easier teams in the NHL to work with.

"You guys are lucky. The next time I see this kid after it comes out, it will probably be when he takes the ice for the Ducks." Matt winced and shuddered. "I had no say in the matter. No say in the other father, no say in the method...."

Mikko was definitely not going to press him on that. He could only imagine. The Ducks were owned by a pretty controlling parent company at the time and Matt's contract had to be one of those very controlling ones. The team knows best, and they probably "knew" that conceiving the child the natural way was the best way. It wasn't the best way for a lot of the men involved, but it didn't appear that their feelings had ever been under consideration.

Mikko had been so lucky to have avoided that. He was starting to cry just thinking about what would happen if anyone would try to take his son from him. "Oh, Matt, I'm so sorry. If you need anyone to talk to—at any time—you know where to find me. I feel so selfish in my happiness now."

"Don't be." Matt smiled faintly. "At least one person needs to be happy out of this whole breeding contract mess and I'm honestly glad it's you. It's going to sound weird, but this whole pregnancy thing is a good look on you. I'm surprised."

"You really think so? I'm still a little nervous but I think you're right. Even with all the weird changes I've never felt so good. And so happy. But now I feel bad for you and...." This time Mikko really did cry.

"Gosh, don't worry yourself about me. You've got your own little worry. We're praying hard and things are going to work out even though they look tough. We have to take it one day at a time. Just like taking it one game at a time."

Mikko felt so embarrassed. These hormones were messing up his emotional control. He always had a tissue at the ready these days to dry up his fussy tears. "If you say so, but I meant it about you calling me or texting me if you need it."

"I know. I mean it that I may actually call you, too," Matt laughed.

"Even if it's not to talk about all this, just call. Are our former teammates ignoring you too?"

"Pretty much, and the ones that haven't ignored me aren't local. I just think they don't want to think about, you know, all this, even the ones who aren't under the contracts."

"Do you really blame them?"

"Not really." With that, the nurse called Matt's name, and he left the waiting room.

Mikko read the news on his phone while he waited for his name to be called. He had been avoiding the hockey news because when he paid attention, he kept wanting to be there, seeing teams he could have helped out...if not for this. It was true he was happy and loving this new experience, but it wasn't the game.

When he finally went into the examination room, the nurse was not in a good mood. "There's a doctor from the league here. Don't worry, he's just going to take some measurements, nothing invasive, but he wants you to take all your clothes off." She grumbled, "Every year, it's something stupid, and at least you're not alone in it. There's a reason they made all the player appointments for today."

Mikko did as directed and put on the flimsy hospital gown that covered nothing as he waited for this mysterious league doctor to show up. It was, of course, freezing in the exam room. By the time the doctor showed up, even those invariably cold hands would probably feel warm.

The league doctor, when he finally arrived, proved to be the typical old guy that they seemed to send around to things like this. It added to the intimidation factor, Mikko supposed. The doctor barely spoke, just motioned for him to take off his gown while the doctor got out a tape measure. The doctor measured Mikko's belly and then put his hands on it. The baby picked that exact moment to kick.

"You've got a little player there, all right," the doctor laughed. His gaze flipped from the belly to Mikko's chest. It looked frankly leering to him.

Mikko glared. "My eyes are up here."

"Eh, sorry, what. I'm done here. Your regular exam's gonna take place soon." The doctor quickly left.

Leave it to the league to ruin his wonderful day, again. He should listen to Matt. He was really incredibly lucky.

* * *

Mikko sat in the easy chair and squinted at the knitting pattern. He had set the project down in the most convenient place he could find, directly atop his seemingly immense belly. He had wanted to get this little sweater for his son done before the birth, but he had just been too distracted with getting the makeshift nursery ready to finish everything he had in mind. Knitting had been suggested to him early in his pregnancy as a way to keep calm and occupied while he waited for baby to arrive, as well as providing a constant stream of baby clothing.

Mikko had taken to it like a duck to water and had finished at least two sweaters and a small blanket already. Maybe he would get some time to finish it after the birth, but people kept telling him that it was unlikely, that he would have to steal little bits of time for himself, especially because he was going to raise the baby alone. The Cullens had been very strong on this point when they had spoken many times over the past three months. Mikko knew himself and he knew that he would make time, that his son would be wearing the little brown and orange-striped sweater this coming winter no matter what. He had loaded up on vintage 1970s patterns because the modern ones weren't to his personal taste.

He had visions of so many sweaters, both for him and for his son, that he would make in the upcoming years. He picked up the needles again and started up another row, but put it down again quickly. When he wasn't bumping up against his belly, he was bumping up against his breasts, which felt tight and swollen and were awaiting the impending birth of a baby. Mikko was due the next morning, a scheduled C-section, which was of course why he was wakeful and trying to knit instead of getting a full night's sleep. He was so worried. So worried. This was major surgery. Would it be like his appendectomy? Would everything be okay? What if it wasn't? He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep, the needles falling from his hands.

The birth went well. It was the most amazing experience Mikko had ever had. He was awake for the whole process and was glad that he watched everything, from the incision, to the removal of his son from his womb, to seeing and hearing his son's loud cries after being born. When they put him into Mikko's arms, he cried. The baby was perfect. Even his shock of startling red hair was perfect. They kept assuring him that baby's hair would eventually lighten, but Mikko didn't care. How could this little one not be perfect in every way? The color was what it was supposed to be. Everything was as it was supposed to be.

Later, when Mikko tried feeding his son for the first time, the nurse was surprised that everything had gone perfectly. The baby had latched on right away and was suckling contentedly at his father's breast. Mikko felt so peaceful and delighted. The little whisper at the back of his mind said that it was probably the oxytocin, but it was drowned out by the louder part of his consciousness that was telling him that in a few years, he should really repeat this all over again and have a baby just for himself. Everything about this had really been so wonderful.

* * *

_Eighteen years later…_

 

The NHL Entry Draft had finally returned to Minnesota for the first time since 2011. Mikko Koivu had also returned to Minnesota for the first time since his number had been retired during the early part of the 2019-20 season. Once that was over and he was clear to return home with his son, he did. There hadn't been any reason for him to go back. It was strange that, after playing here for almost fifteen years, he didn't feel much attachment to this place. If his career hadn't ended the way it did, perhaps things would be different; but if his career hadn't ended like that he would not have the little family he did and that would have been even worse.

Right then, he was attempting to herd his little family out of the Science Museum of Minnesota so they could go back to the hotel and change clothes before heading over to the arena for the draft. Half were cooperating. The other half were not.

"Dad, what's that old gray building across the street?" Olavi asked.

"Oh, I think it's the library."

"The _library_? Can we go there tomorrow? Please? I've always wanted to see an American library."

"I suppose, if it's open, and if we have time. We may not. If we don't, we still have Sunday here before we go back home." Olavi was obsessed with books and libraries and not necessarily in that order. Out of all the kids, he was the only one who hadn't been positive that he would be a professional hockey player when he grew up. He had consistently mentioned either librarian or historian, or both.

"Books again?" His older brother Ville smacked him on the back of the head. "You and books, always books."

"Dad, he's hitting me again."

"Ville, stop hitting your brother and start walking back, we're burning daylight here."

"Onni, I dropped my dinosaur and it's all _dirty_. Can you hold it?" Kalevi held up his new plush dinosaur and pushed it at his brother.

Onni took the dinosaur and brushed it off. "There, it should be dirtless. Take it back."

Mikko groaned. "No, Onni, you keep holding it, he's going to insist there's invisible dirt somewhere on it until we get back to the room and I really don't need the whining right now."

"Yes, sir. Dino-holding it is. I could give it to Sakari so he can get photographed holding his comfort object right before the draft."

Sakari had, as the oldest, been the first one to get in line behind his father for the walk back. He had joined up with them at the museum after an afternoon of various activities with the other top-ranked potential picks. "Shut up. And the thing still has the tag on it, anyway."

"Onni! Will you please take the tag off!" Kalevi tugged on his brother's shirt.

"Later. Listen to Dad and _you_ shut up and keep walking. See, Ville and Olavi and Tapio listened."

The children eventually got in order and they walked back to the hotel. The suite was big enough to sleep all seven people but, to do that, the bedroom was mostly taken up by large bunk beds and a couch. Even using the extra room, trying to get six children between the ages of ten and eighteen to change into more formal clothing in a short period of time was going to be an exercise in space management.

Mikko gathered them all in front of the closet. "Now remember the goal. We're all going to look like a team here." All seven of them would be wearing dark gray suits and handmade light gray sweater vests, with ties of their favorite colors.

"Dad, isn't it obvious enough that we're all together?" Ville said.

"Yes, but sometimes one would like to emphasize that. Like, perhaps, now."

"These vests look stupid, though."

"Don't insult our father's work like that, Ville. Make him happy and wear it." Sakari glared at his younger brother. "I think they look nice."

Kalevi was dawdling. "Onni, will you braid my hair again? It's come out!"

Onni had been in the bathroom looking at his face to see if anything troublesome had broken out in the past five hours. "No, I don't have time. Just brush it out, it looks fine loose and it's not like we're going to be doing anything but sitting there waiting."

"But we may be on TV."

Tapio started laughing at his twin brother. "Yeah, for about two seconds. Sakari is going to be on TV, not us."

"All of you, just get dressed! Onni, get out of there, you can continue your search for the elusive hidden pimple later." Mikko growled. "Once I'm done dressing, you can all take your final turn in the bathroom. And you better all be dressed!"

Mikko didn't have any problem with dressing in front of his boys, but pushing them out was a way of giving him at least the temporary illusion of solitude and privacy. After five hours of following the younger ones around the museum with the occasional interlude of scaring off the girls that Onni had been working very hard at impressing, he needed it.

Mikko took the suit out of its bag and put it on. The suit was a custom job, tailored well to disguise widened hips and rounded stomach and chest, to masculinize his matronly figure for viewing by a North American audience. It worked, but he realized he made a strategic blunder with the vest. He had knitted it for himself with his correct measurements but what passed for all right at home would not pass in the States. The vest was tight and clung to every curve. It meant that he really shouldn't open the jacket at all that night, no matter how hot it got.

He had long ago accepted the changes in his body, but the Americans were still weird about this stuff. Many Finns seemed to see men like him as wearing those changes as a badge of honor. It meant that they were doing or had done their duty to keep the population stable. He had done his duty five times more than he was technically supposed to, and he and others like him had been rewarded well for it. He was fine with the monetary bonus, but not with the silly medal the government handed out. The latter seemed like a very bad idea.

When Mikko was done dressing he was surprised to find that the kids had managed to get themselves ready that quickly. Even Kalevi had quit fussing about his hair and his sad dirty dinosaur and was sitting on the bed with Tapio, arms wrapped around each other and giggling.

"Well, it's time to make your final preparations and then we'll walk over to the arena." He stood by the door and waited for the boys to finish, and then they headed off.

They checked in at the special entrance for the potential draft picks in attendance and their families. Mikko looked around. Nothing really looked that much different from when he had been playing here. Just a few updated items of signage, more or less. As long as he didn't have to go into any of the player areas, he thought he would be okay. Those memories needed to stay buried.

Unfortunately, like so many other things, some of them wouldn't stay there. Mikko saw his first familiar face that weekend. Zach Parise had been working as special assistant to the general manager since his retirement and it wasn't any surprise that he was around and not only that, it appeared that he was looking for Mikko in particular. The minute Zach saw him, he made a beeline right over.

"Hey, Mikko! I'm so glad you came all this way for the draft. It's been way too long." Zach gave him a quick bro hug. "I see we have a whole bunch to catch up on. Or you have a whole bunch, huh?"

"You could call them that, yes. Boys, this is Zach Parise. We used to play together here in Minnesota."

"Hello, Mr. Parise," the boys said in almost-unison.

Zach laughed. "Wow, Mikko. You've lined them up just like Sound of Music."

"They're well-trained by now. Just a bunch of upstanding young men, aren't they?"

Zach shook Sakari's hand. "Great job at the World Juniors. Wish we had someone like you on the US side."

Sakari blushed and looked down at his shoes. "Thank you, Mr. Parise."

"Now who are the rest of these boys? Your next-oldest, Onni, right? I've seen the scouting reports. I hope I'll get to see you again at the draft in two years."

Onni grinned. "There should be no doubt about it, if I'm lucky."

"Like to see that confidence in prospects." Zach slapped Onni on the shoulder.

Mikko pointed to the other four children. "Here's Ville, he's fourteen, he's a defenseman. You may be hearing of him soon. Olavi is twelve and is very excited about the library here. Tapio and Kalevi are ten. Their English isn't that good yet. Kalevi really loves playing goalie."

Zach looked at Kalevi in disbelief. "A goalie, huh? Well, goalies are always a little quirky."

Mikko shook his head. "You have to love it, and he does. I don't love hauling all the gear, but that's the way it goes."

"I'm glad none of my kids played goalie, yeah. Same reason. So I hear you got out of the TV gigs and you've been coaching a bit recently."

"Only the youth teams. I'd been coaching my own kids' teams for the most part. I had to make sure they were going to get the right start, and since none of them have quit yet I appear to have done the job." Mikko glared at Ville. He was pushing at Olavi and trying to make him topple over. Ville got the message and stood arrow-straight.

"How's the maternity clothes line going? You really did make a good model for that, but—wow, was I surprised when I saw that at first."

"It's going really well, despite the fact I haven't been able to model for us for about a decade. The stuff probably sells better without me being shown in it, anyway. I'm glad it's caught on over here in North America. I suppose all these retired athletes wearing it helps."

He nodded. "Hey, I'm kind of surprised you stopped at six, you know?"

"I didn't want to, went in to prepare for the seventh, and got told that it was just too dangerous to try for another." The monthly reminder of fertility had been a taunt since then; his body was never going back to the way it had been without intervention, and he couldn't use it for what he dearly wanted to anymore.

Zach frowned. "Oh, man, I'm sorry. Hey, can I pull you aside for a second?"

"Sure, Zach, but why can't the kids hear it?"

"Confidential team information, and you know what they say about little pitchers."

Mikko was puzzled. "They get overuse injuries?"

"Ah, no, little kids have big ears, sorry."

Mikko went with Zach a little bit away from the kids. "What's this about that you need to tell me?"

"I've been hearing talk about Sakari dropping in the draft. I don't know the reasons yet, but I don't think it's anything to do with his skill. I just don't want you to be surprised. I haven't been allowed in the draft room but I've been putting a word in for my old captain's boy. I mean, we both know how good he is. Hate to say it, but he's better than me or you. I just don't know what's going to come of it."

Mikko clicked his tongue. "He's going to be disappointed but, well, thanks for the warning. I probably won't tell him, he's nervous enough already that he needs not to be subject to rumors."

"Okay. I think it's time for you guys to get seated, I'm sorry I took up all your time."

"We're going to be here for the next few days so if you really did want to reconnect further, you know where to find me. Just look for the line of pale blond children." Mikko gathered his boys behind him and they entered the seating bowl. He was surprised that no press had been following him or Sakari. Perhaps Zach's rumors were right.

They sat down. Sakari sat in the aisle seat next to his father. He tapped his foot nervously. Mikko reached over and squeezed his hand. "No matter what happens today, I still love you, it has nothing to do with this nonsense at all."

Sakari nodded, but the tense expression on his face didn't go away.

The first draft pick was announced. "The Pittsburgh Penguins pick, from the University of Wisconsin, Jacob Doan, son of Shane Doan and Auston Matthews."

Mikko put his hand to his mouth. He'd expected they'd shoot for a good bloodline with either of those two, but pairing them together in any fashion was just twisted. He wondered what kind of pull Doan had that his kid was actually subject to the draft. So many of them weren't.

The next six picks were made. Sakari grew more nervous. "I can't believe I'm dropping like this."

"It's all right. Maybe you'll drop to the Wild at twenty-nine."

"Dad, you won't even talk much about playing here; what makes you think I want to come here?"

"My circumstances weren't yours. You won't have to quit playing to breed. That's what did it for me for this place."

Sakari went quiet, throughout the rest of the round, in which his name wasn't called. He sat there stoically and waved off the few reporters who appeared interested in asking him questions about his drop.

"Does this mean we don't go to the library tomorrow, Dad?" Olavi asked.

"I shouldn't even have to answer that question. We sit here for another day until they call Sakari's name. That's all. Second day always goes faster, though."

 

The family was supposed to go out for a celebratory dinner. Mikko ordered pizza to be delivered to the hotel instead. The twins were at first reluctant to try the weird pizza that was cut into squares until Mikko told them that it was a special Minnesota food. They all ate in silence and then got ready for bed.

Sakari had dressed for bed, but was curled up on the couch crying. Mikko put his arms around him and cuddled him. "Oh, my little light, you will always be my little light no matter how big or old you are, and I do not like it when the little light is dimmed. You will be drafted tomorrow. You will."

Sakari sniffled. "I know, Dad, you told me to never read the press and online scouting reports on yourself, but I know you! I bet you looked at yours, so of course I did! And all of them had me going at least 1-4, and now...did I screw up at the combine? Did I say the wrong thing? What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, you always try your hardest and do your best and I don't think this is about you. I think it's about something else."

"What something else? Maybe it's because they know who my other dad is, and there's something wrong with him...."

"You should know this by now. Whoever the donor was, he was a good player and they felt that something he had matched with something I had. He only had part of the genetic making of you. I had the making of everything else. I had the hard part." Mikko had pulled up some information on the draft picks with his phone, and passed it over to Sakari.

"Yes, Dad. So...I see scouting reports?"

Mikko nodded. "I think our answer to you dropping in the draft is in here. Let's read."

They bent their heads over the phone and read the reports. "Hey, Sakari, have you noticed something about all these reports? What all these guys have in common?"

"I think, other than none of them being from Europe...." Sakari bit his lower lip. "It looks like they're all men who can get pregnant."

"Which is, of course, patently not you. And they're not from Europe, especially not from Finland, so they can all have these horrible new breeding contracts. Giving up not just one, but two or three, and maybe not getting to even raise them!" Mikko shuddered. "You all know how precious you boys are to me, I can't even imagine having to give you up."

"You're giving me up, aren't you?"

"If you didn't want to play in the NHL, you didn't have to. I would have found a way. But I know you want to. You have the same competitive fire I do. Keep that fire burning tomorrow, Sakari. You'll need it. You'll show them all what they missed out on."

 

Mikko awakened the next morning to find Kalevi clinging to him like a tick. He had put the twins on the opposite bottom bunk for a reason, mostly because if they were anxious one or both would end up in his bed sometime in the middle of the night. They were getting too old for that nonsense, but he never had the heart to tell them no. He could see that Sakari had pulled out the sleeper part of the couch and was sleeping on that. That explained the lack of flipping from above during the night. Olavi slept like the dead. He had made Onni sleep with Ville because Onni was not afraid of whacking his annoying little brother back.

Mikko managed to get Kalevi to unstick without waking him up and got all the clothes for the boys ready for the day. He stood in the middle of the bedroom and set off the alarm on his phone. The boys groggily arose and looked at him.

"It's past time to get up. And, look, before we left we prepared for a day two! The vests this time are black!"

"Not again," Ville groaned, but quickly put on his clothes anyway.

 

They went to the same spot in the arena that they had sat in for the first round. It was a lot quieter now. Only the families and the prospects and the hard-core fans were out. It was a long, depressing second round. This time Mikko had his trusty phone out, and he and Sakari were checking the reports on each pick as they were drafted. They noticed that all the second rounders had the exact same thing in common, much the same as the first round, except for the handful of European players drafted.

Mikko looked at his eldest son. Sakari's expression was a schooled blankness. He didn't know how to explain this well to him. "I think they're trying to get extra players without, you know, having to pay for it. On the other hand, they can't really pass off the player development costs to others this way. I'm not sure what sort of sense this makes, but there is a whole lot in this world that makes no sense to me."

"So that's why I'm not getting drafted. I know we all have to donate sperm after signing our ELCs, but that's about all I can give the league. I can't give them anything else but me."

"I'm sorry, but that is really what it looks like. We'll see what happens in the third round."

There was a break between rounds. Mikko had drunk far too much coffee that morning in an effort to keep himself awake. He was certainly awake, but the coffee was taking its other effect. He told Onni to make sure the younger boys kept out of trouble and didn't wander while he made a rush to the restroom.

He decided to use the stall for privacy; vest #2 was looser than #1 but still not anything he wanted to have visible and he really wanted to take off his jacket. As he was getting ready to leave, the conversation he heard coming from the urinals stopped him.

"God, did you see Mother Koivu out there with her little line of ducklings following? Never thought I'd see the day, well...."

"Hey, at least two of those ducklings are pretty good. Although those are the ones who can't give birth, so...."

"Yeah. And I bet the second is just another mama's boy."

"They play pretty damn hard for all of that. Despite the way their father's let himself go, what the hell, does he even realize what he looks like?"

"Definitely not the same person who played in this arena, right?"

Mikko was irate, less at the insults at his person and more at the confirmation of his and Sakari's suspicions about the way the draft was going. If only he had the presence of mind to record that conversation, but he hadn't, and there was no way of proving any sort of collusion or strategy that all the teams were following, other than the evidence of the picks themselves.

The insults about himself were only the signal to remove his suit jacket. He didn't care what they thought any longer. He would wear this body proudly, the same way he did at home, and they would just have to deal with it.

When he arrived back at his seat, Sakari nodded at him and gave him a short little salute. He was always very astute at picking up signals from his family. The third round was about to start.

The Avalanche GM went to the podium and named the first selection of the third round. "We draft, from TPS Turku, Sakari Koivu, son of Mikko Koivu and Gabriel Landeskog."

The Avs fans in the crowd were hooting in joy.

Sakari hugged his father, practically in tears. "It finally happened. I really got drafted!"

"Yes, you did. Get up there and say hi to the management." Mikko seethed inside. Of all the dirty tricks the NHL pulled on him, having Gabriel Landeskog father his eldest son was the worst.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic had its origins in a chat conversation about the Evil NHL Breeding Program trope, and turning the trope a little by making the pregnant players be over 30 and essentially forced to retire to breed. So here we get, um, gen mpreg in a breeding program. My motto is not "I dare" but more "I take silly dares."
> 
> Thanks to the chat for being a sounding board and to my betas. 
> 
> For more notes and details on this particular work, visit http://lilymaid.dreamwidth.org/2028.html

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [one name in a bloodline](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458965) by [Nadler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadler/pseuds/Nadler)




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